Liar 4/?

[oroburos69]

Title: Liar 4/?
Beta: lady_of_scarlet
Summary: When they said they’d never leave him alone again, they meant it.
Warnings: Non-con
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.
Author's Note: News! I'm offering a fanfic of no less than 9000 words, preferably over 10000 as an item in the Gulf Aid Now Charity Auction on LJ. Bidding is at $15 dollars right now, and ends on July 5, 2010, so if you'd like me to write you a fic, visit this link

All the money will go to a registered charity. I take none of it.

“Everything went all right?” Lisbon asked Cho, holding the door open for him. He murmured an affirmative, packing the video camera into its case.

“I’ll have it on Bosco’s desk by morning, Boss,” Cho told her quietly, sliding the camera strap over his shoulder.
She nodded and Cho left, the blinds on the door rattling softly as he closed it. Lisbon returned to Jane, sitting in the recently vacated seat.

“So you’re going to be watching me sleep?” Jane asked, a joke hiding his very real discomfort. He curled awkwardly on his side, facing Lisbon, facing the door.

Lisbon watched him for a moment. “I was actually going to read my book,” she answered, holding up the trashy romance novel she had bought in the hotel gift shop. It was by one of Jane’s favorite authors, and she had bought it for him, mostly.

If he didn’t bite, she was going to read it. Not because she liked the novels (she only read them out of boredom) but because she had spent ten fifty on it.

Lisbon looked at the book-cover. A half-naked man in a kilt leered back at her. She had to wonder why Jane liked the series. She had read all twelve of the Scottish Warlords in Thrall, a few of them more than once, and there was honestly very little to recommend them.

“Is that the new Destiny Le Fey?” Jane looked interested.

“Yes, just released last week. The Scottish Stallion,” Lisbon confirmed. She pretended to be deep in thought. “I suppose I could loan it to you, if you wanted to read it.”

Jane reached out, his entire arm shaking. He paled at the movement, dropping his arm to the bed. “I don’t suppose I have anything better to do,” he announced dramatically, covering his wince.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and allowed him to pretend that she didn’t know about the second ‘secret’ library hidden under the couch. “Then I guess I should lend it to you,” she replied, sliding the book under his hand.

Jane gave her a smile, and flipped it open to the first page.

Lisbon relaxed into the uncomfortable metal chair, watching the hallway through the window. Jane was tired, and looked like he was going to fall asleep at any moment. She could steal The Scottish Stallion after he dozed off.

The hallway was nearly empty, only the occasional nurse wandering by. Dusk dimmed the light coming in from the window. Lisbon watched Jane from the corner of her eye, knowing he could feel the weight of her gaze. He relaxed into the thin mattress, his eyes blinking ever more slowly. Jane flipped through a few more pages before the book slipped from his fingers onto the sheets.

Lisbon waited a few moments, then slid the book out from under his hands. Jane was dead asleep. She nodded, once, in a kind of self confirmation. He hadn’t been sleeping well recently, even before... Lisbon let out a quiet sigh and slouched back, crossing her legs. She cracked the book open and began to read.

Two of Lisbon’s six hour shift went by in pleasant silence, filled only by the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor and the occasional soft snore from Jane. She was half-way through the manly exploits of Clive McClivian and his harem of highly willing women when the nurse came through the door. Lisbon slipped a bookmark in to mark her page and set the book down.

The nurse’s rubber shoes squeaked on the laminate floors. She gave Lisbon a quick nod, and pulled the chart from the end of Jane’s bed, looking it over.

Lisbon returned the nod belatedly. She uncrossed her legs, and set her feet against the floor. Jane had not woken, but that was unsurprising. Jane slept like a rock once he fell asleep. It was getting to that point that held difficulty.

The nurse returned the clipboard to the bed rail with a soft click of metal on metal. She approached the side of the bed, cup of pills in hand. Lisbon tensed slightly, half-rising to her feet. The nurse leaned over Jane, her hand outstretched over Jane’s shoulder.

Jane woke up, twisting out from under the nurse’s hand, a surprised noise of distress escaping his lips.
Lisbon lunged across the room, pinning the nurse against the wall, the dull thud of her head hitting the wall oddly satisfying.

“Lisbon—Teresa!” Jane shouted, trying to get her attention. His voice sounded tinny.

Lisbon shrugged her shoulder to show that she had heard. She relaxed her hold on the nurse, suddenly realizing that the woman—girl, really, was crying, and begging her to let her go.

“Teresa, she’s just a nurse,” Jane said calmly, in the voice he used to hypnotize, to talk people down. “See? Purple crocs with vomit splatter on them, scrubs, six suckers in her pocket.”

Lisbon heard Jane sitting up in the bed, the rustling of the sheets loud in the sudden silence.

“She’s just a nurse, Teresa,” Jane told her reasonably. He was calmer than she was, and there was something very wrong about that. Lisbon could hear the uneasiness in his voice, the confusion. It hid beneath the soothing façade, and guilt for putting it there nearly overwhelmed her.

Lisbon stumbled back from the nurse, releasing her. The pills were scattered on the floor and one crunched under her foot.

“Honey, are you okay?” Jane asked the nurse as soon as Lisbon released her, his voice descending into a soft croon. He sent a warning look toward Lisbon. She backed up toward the door, appalled with herself. Her hands felt cold as she contemplated the consequences of her actions. Lisbon would be on suspension, under review, marks on her record. Hell, the nurse could sue.

“Honey, why don’t you sit down?” Jane murmured, gesturing toward the chair Lisbon had leapt out of. The nurse choked back sobs and obeyed, sitting. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice so full of sincere good will that even Lisbon believed him.

“Sam Bernard,” she replied, looking over her hands to Jane, red-rimmed eyes peeking out.

Jane smiled at her, and Lisbon could see the startled pleasure in Sam’s face. Her choked gasps slowed, and she wiped at her eyes, clearing them of tears. Lisbon was invisible.

“Hello Sam,” Jane said. He smiled again. “It’s good to meet you.” The smile drifted off his face, and he grew serious and a little sad. “Are you okay?” he asked her, concerned and sympathetic.

Sam sat up straighter, rubbing her sleeve over her blotchy face. “I—” she glanced over toward Lisbon and muffled a sob with her hands, crumpling in on herself.

“Okay, Sam, it’s okay,” Jane soothed her, reaching out to grip one of her hands. “I need you to relax, can you do that for me?” he asked her, holding her hand down, running his thumb gently over her wrist. “Just relax, you’re safe now.”
She reached out to grab his hand, clutching it in a white knuckled grip. Lisbon caught the grimace that crossed his face, and nearly started forward again. Jane glanced toward her, warning clear in his eyes.

“Sam, you should calm down,” he said quietly, voice pitched low enough that she would have to quit sobbing to hear him. “You’re going to be fine, because everything is alright now. You are safe now, you can relax, just like you’re going to sleep.”

Sam stopped crying, and just blinked at Jane. Lisbon calmed. Sam was under. Jane would take care of things. Lisbon leaned into the wall, her knees suddenly weak.

“Yes Sam, everything is fine,” Jane asserted, watching the nurse’s eyes. He waited a beat, then asked, “Are you safe now, Sam?”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Yes.”

“Good, that’s great.” The tension in his arms disappeared and he rewarded her with a smile.
She smiled back.

“Now Sam, I’ve got a problem,” Jane said earnestly. He wrapped his other hand around hers. “My friend Teresa is worried about you. You tripped over your shoes and she caught you by the wrist, remember?”

Sam nodded, staring into Jane’s eyes.

“She’s worried that she hurt you.” Jane gave her a sympathetic pat on the hand. “But she didn’t hurt you, did she?” he asked Sam softly, watching her intently.

“No, I’m fine,” Sam replied, smiling at Lisbon. Her eyes were blank—empty. Lisbon shivered in an appalled sort of horror. No matter how many times she saw Jane hypnotize people, she never got over the look in their eyes. Completely aware, but blindly accepting of whatever he said. It frightened her.

“Oh good!” Jane praised her. He gave her hands an affectionate stroke, drawing a dazed blink. “So you remember, right? You tripped and Lisbon caught you. You were surprised and started to cry, which scared Teresa, right?” Jane told her.

Sam smiled and wiped away her tears, releasing Jane’s hands. She blushed. “I’m sorry I was so rude, ma’am,” Sam said to Lisbon. “You were only trying to help.”

“It’s okay.” Lisbon forced the words past the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry I—scared you.”

“That’s great.” Jane drew her attention back to him. “You’ve made Teresa feel so much better.”

Jane struggled into a sitting position. “Okay Sam, you’ve been great,” he told her affectionately. “I think you’re feeling much better now. As a matter of fact, you’re feeling so much better that you are going have a fantastic day.

Everything’s going to go right for you.” Jane took a breath. “When I touch your arm, you’re going to wake up and do whatever you came in here to do, okay?”

“Okay,” she repeated peacefully.

Jane reached up and tapped her arm.

Sam rose to her feet, offering them a shy smile. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I spilled your pills.” She hesitated, looking at Lisbon for a moment, as if she remembered. She shook her head. “I’ll be back with a new set.”

Sam left.

“Lisbon, care to explain?” Jane asked in confusion. He twisted so he was lying on the bed again, curled up on his side.

“I don’t know,” Lisbon replied, walking to the chair. She gripped the edge of it, grounding herself in the cool metal.

Jane hesitated. “Don’t do it again, okay?”

---

The first things she noticed were his wrists. They were encased in navy blue splints, white bandages peeking out from underneath them. Further up his arm, an IV pierced his skin. The hospital gown reached just above his elbow and the short stretch of exposed skin was pale.

Cho smiled at the plant in her hands as he left, leaving her to guard duty.

Jane stared into the corner, not noticing her.  Grace hesitated, but walked into the room anyway.

She put the jade plant on the window sill. The movement made a soft clicking sound that drew his attention away from the wall.

He looked at her curiously, a welcome change from the completely blank look before. “A plant?” he asked, more quietly than usual.

“A jade plant,” Grace confirmed, arranging it so it could soak up the most sunlight. “They’re succulents, and really hard to kill,” she told him, giving the pot an affectionate pat.

“How thoughtful of you,” Jane said, a slow smile working its way out. He looked at the jade plant. “You know I kill plants,” he muttered softly, the smile still ghosting around the corners of his lips.

“Yes,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “I do know. That’s why I’m not giving it to you.”

He looked startled and a little amused. “You aren’t?”

“No. It’s my plant,” Grace said, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. As she settled into it she swore she smelled Cho’s cologne. He used a very unusual scent, something she’d never been able to identify. “I brought it so you could look at it, but if you so much as try to water it.” She shook her finger at him and then paused, stumped. “I’ll… ”

“Make my life into a horrible mockery of its former self?” Jane suggested, but his voice was far too bitter. She saw the flicker of his eyes as he realized that he’d said more than he’d intended.

“No,” Grace decided, distracting him as best she could. She pulled her purse from under the chair and opened it. “I won’t bake you cookies when you get out of the hospital.” She pulled out a thermos. “And I won’t give you the Earl Grey I smuggled in,” she teased him, shaking the thermos to make it slosh. “I’ll have to drink it all,” she said, putting it on the bedside table so she could fish two travelling mugs out of her purse.

“You don’t even like Earl Grey,” Jane protested, shifting up against the pillows so he could watch her better. Grace didn’t miss the way he winced at the movement. “Did you bring honey?” he asked, leaning over to look in her purse.
“Yes I brought honey,” Grace told him, pulling a plastic beehive out of the depths of her purse. “And I brought green tea for myself. None of that Earl Grey nonsense for me,” she declared, taking out another thermos.

“So you never intended to cut me off from tea to ensure my good behavior in regards to the plant?” Jane asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He reached out to grab the silver thermos and slipped, falling against the metal bed rails. He gasped quietly, shoulders shaking as he tried to pull himself back up.

Grace froze, then put the green thermos on the side table. She pushed him back up onto the bed and looked away. “I could have poured it down the sink,” she told him, talking too fast but unable to slow down. “It’s double Bergamot,” she added, reaching out to pour him a mug.

“Double Bergamot?” he asked, voice shaking. “Sacrilege.” Jane settled back against the thin pillows and watched her pour the tea.

Grace added two dollops (Jane assured her that it was a very technical term) of honey, mixed it with the coffee stirrer she’d stolen from the nurses’ break room, and then screwed on the lid. She made as if to hand it to Jane and then paused, looking at him carefully. “Have I secured your promise to not touch my jade plant?” she asked him, holding the tea hostage.

“I suppose I simply have to accept your terms,” Jane agreed, looking at the tea longingly. “I shall not attempt to water, touch, or otherwise interfere with your plant.”

Grace smiled in delight and handed him the travel mug.

“Hmmmm…” Jane sipped thoughtfully.

Grace rolled her eyes, and drank from her cup. “It meets your approval?” she inquired.

“Well, yes,” Jane said, a frown creasing his face. “Was there no milk?” he asked.

“I wasn’t about to smuggle milk into a hospital,” Grace replied. “It might go bad.”

“The water is still just this side of boiling. In the time you took to get from your house to here, milk couldn’t possibly have gone bad,” Jane argued, drinking again, both hands curling around the mug. His arms had stopped twitching, Grace noted in approval.

“Ah, that would be true, but by the time I got here, the water had cooled,” Grace replied. She smiled over the rim of the cup. Hook baited.

“Hmmmm…” Jane hummed in sudden interest. “Then you must have heated it up here.”

“True,” Grace confirmed, keeping her face blank for Jane. Bait taken.

“Didn’t the nurse’s lounge have milk?” Jane asked after a moment.

“I couldn’t possibly take their milk,” Grace said firmly, doing her best to impart social skills on Jane.

“But you took their tea,” Jane replied, watching her intently.  Grace’s lips twitched as she fought to keep from giggling. “The green tea was Lipton. You only buy Stash.” He leaned over a little and then nodded. “And there were two packages of Earl Grey in your purse.”

Grace smiled to let him know that he was right. Jane grinned back at her, the earlier dissonance gone.

“But you should have brought milk,” Jane frowned at the plastic mug. “You were at home three hours ago. It wouldn’t have gone bad in three hours.”

“Three hours in my car, Jane,” Grace retorted, slightly appalled. “It would have rotted!”

“It would have been fine,” Jane insisted, “Milk can be at room temperature for hours before it goes bad.”

“No it can’t.” Grace shook her head. “It goes bad the instant it hits room temperature.”

Jane raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t about to feed you bad milk,” she protested. His eyebrow remained up. “I wasn’t!”

Jane sighed in disappointment and looked at his tea sadly. He sipped at it delicately, his eyebrows curving down in an expression of deep sorrow.

“I’ll bring milk next time,” Grace promised, fighting the urge to hug him.

He smiled brilliantly. “Excellent!” he said cheerfully. “Oh, and next time you go back to the office, could you bring me my client list?” he tacked it on, like she wasn’t supposed to notice.

“Why? Is it related to the case?” she asked, leaning in. Jane tensed subtly at her movement, but she ignored it because she was pretty sure he was faking.

“Nostalgia,” Jane claimed, lying through his teeth. He sipped his tea innocently.

Grace tapped the metal armrest restlessly. “Jane,” she warned him.

“What?” he asked, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. Jane put the mug on the side table, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

Jane was lying to her. But lying meant it was important to the Red John case. Grace stared at Jane, drinking her tea. There is no one out there more likely to catch Red John. She believed that. But Jane wasn’t in the best condition right now.  Should she aid him?

“Will you, or won’t you?” Jane asked, the cool undertone of his anger rising. She had only a few seconds before he would lash out at her.

Grace murmured a curse under her breath. Either way, the issue was moot. Giving Jane access to his client list was not handing over evidence, it wouldn’t kill him, and he hated telling people about his hunches. “I suppose you would like a computer to view it on as well?” she asked.

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